


To Lose a Child

by wakandan_wardog



Series: Children of Light [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I'm Sorry, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Robot Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 06:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14372487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandan_wardog/pseuds/wakandan_wardog
Summary: Tony copes (badly) with the loss of JARVIS, the loss of the team. No parent should ever outlive their child.





	1. After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rebelmeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/gifts).



The team scatters, after Ultron, after Sokovia. After. After. After. 

Everything is **A.J.** for Tony now. After JARVIS.

Without JARVIS. 

Tony is alone. He returns to New York without his second son, without his best friend, without his team… without Steve. Steve, who… might have been? 

Could have been? 

But in the end, wasn’t. 

Wasn’t. Wasn’t because Tony was… Tony was. Tony was what Tony always had been, and in the end, that was too much for Steve. 

Too much, or not enough. 

As with everyone, Tony is too much… or not enough. 

In the end, that is always the way of things. Tony is either, or both… All at once, too much and not enough. 

And now, alone. 

He can’t bring himself to speak as he enters the tower, as he calls for the elevator by pushing an actual button. Pushing a button rather than raising his voice, speaking to his son. 

_Oh God, he’ll never speak to his baby boy again._

“JARVIS…” Tony chokes on a sob as the elevator arrives, the doors fall open automatically and he stumbles inside. But there’s no warm tone, no ‘Welcome Sir’, no arch comment about the state of his suit or the fact that he’s probably broken Twitter again. 

No snarky AI automatically pulling up images as people live blog “#IronMan” with a droll _“I particularly like your flight angle and hand gestures as you passed Trump Tower, **Sir** but Miss Potts is now holding for you on Line 3 and I dare say she’s not amused.”_

Tony has to pull himself together has to swipe at the tears that blur his vision. He hits the ‘Close Doors’ button, then reaches for the purposefully unique button. In the midst of numbers there’s a letter, a J for JARVIS. Like the Garage and the Lobby it stands out, a letter amidst the numeric identification of its fellows.

Unlike the other buttons, it is arc reactor blue, like Tony’s heart. 

_His best and brightest son is gone, and in his place is a void. A void that could have been filled by Vision, a stranger. A stranger that did not want to come home with Tony._

In the end, no one wanted to come home with Tony. 

Tony pushes the button, the elevator doors close and the car rises slowly in silence. 

And Tony knows what is waiting for him when the doors open. Knows, but still jerks like he’s taken a physical hit when the doors whisper open. 

There is only silence on JARVIS’s floor. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The maybe/almost aspect of Steve and Tony's relationship makes it very hard to tag. It didn't exist, but it could have been. It's not the endgame though, sorry to any STONY shippers.


	2. Abandoned

JARVIS has his own floor in the tower, more secure than nearly any other. It is one of Tony’s safe rooms, only accessible via elevator by JARVIS’s own approval or Tony’s biometric. Without JARVIS, Tony accesses the floor by touch, pressing his fingertips to the button with more force than necessary. 

Without JARVIS, Tony shuffles through open doors into a floor that is dark, and still, and chilled. 

A floor kept significantly cooler than most of the living quarters to offset the warmth of JARVIS’s servers. 

A floor formerly filled with soft arc reactor blue lighting. With the low hum of machinery, the whisper of JARVIS’s conscience, more prevalent here than any other location, except perhaps Tony’s workshop. 

Flighty and uncoordinated, Tony’s hands scrabble for the hem of his shirt. He peels it off over his head without hesitation, flinging the cotton aside, letting the light of the arc reactor illuminate the dark floor. He can’t bring himself to reach for a light switch, can’t bring himself to face the truth of the dead-silent machinery. Tony would rather be alone in the otherwise-dark, left only with the color his son had willingly shared. 

Shuffling through the rows of servers, Tony reaches the main access point and collapses. He drapes himself over a low-set tower, cheek pressed against the cool casing, arms loosely wrapped around the hard angles. 

If JARVIS were still here the panels would be lit, the fans whirring, diagnostics on the screen. Something to adjust, to correct, to improve on. Nothing earth shattering, but small, fiddly work. A project for Tony and JARVIS to work on together, an excuse to spend time together. 

Now there’s nothing. Just Tony, and the dark. 

Like Afghanistan. Like being left alone in the wormhole, set adrift in space. 

Just Tony, alone in the dark. 

He thinks it is no more than he deserves. 

*


	3. Adjusting

Tony doesn’t know how many days he spends there, hours lost in the dark and silent space. Sometimes he leaves the floor… He showers, because he can remember the sound of JARVIS’s voice when the AI had to remind him to do so. Usually he just throws on whatever pajamas or shop clothes he can find. He splits his time between the shop and JARVIS’s floor. 

He had to go to the shop, had to tell DUM-E and U and Butterfingers that their brother wasn’t going to come back… that it was going to be, quiet, for a while. An adjustment. He visits every day so they know he loves them. Then he goes to the server room, and mourns his second son. Sometimes DUM-E will go with him, beeping sadly and patting futilely at the silent servers. Most of the time he stays in the shop, consoles Butterfingers, distracts U. 

FRIDAY has access to every inch of Stark Tower (and yes, it is Stark Tower. If the Avengers wanted it, they should have come back to it), but refuses to step into her brother’s shoes. Refuses to sprawl across the tower, to lay claim to his space. She has her own servers, her own floor, her own will. She can be spoken to in any room, if she chooses. 

She remains only in Tony’s phone. In the earbud he creates specially to speak to her, to keep her voice in his ear at all times. She will not command the tower. 

She will not step into her brother’s skin. 

Honestly? Tony cannot blame her. 

He’s tried fitting into someone else’s skin before. It always ends badly. 

(Sex and lies sold to bold news print.) 

Ends painfully. 

(Weapons sold to his enemies. His life sold by his perceived family.) 

Ends bloody. 

(Screaming in a cave in Afghanistan, unable to breathe because of metal in his chest and light in his skin. A light he can see, can forge into something, if only he can get home to his sons.) 

It always ends. 

(The team turning their backs on him. His home shattered and empty.) 

(His son dead.) 

_JARVIS, no…_

So no, Tony isn’t gonna make his baby girl take on a role that was never hers. Well, isn’t going to do that _again_. Though birthing her into war was not his finest hour, it was the only option. His back was to the wall and he needed someone to watch out for him. 

(His team mates had never been good at that. Humans had never been good at that. But that’s fine, that’s why Tony had his children.) 

But once was enough. War was enough of a sin on his soul, a stain on Friday’s. He wouldn’t make her take on JARVIS’s ghost. 

There was no use trying to wrest him from something he was clinging to so desperately. 

So Tony made an earbud, and carried Friday everywhere with him. Fell asleep with her lilting Irish songs whispered in his ear, woke screaming as she soothingly recounted the day and the time and endless reminders. 

_’I have you, Boss. We’re in New York. We’re in Stark Tower. The boys are downstairs, trying to clean foam off the new Audi. I am here. I love you.’_

She doesn’t say ‘I will not leave you’, because she might. 

She doesn’t call him Father. 

He doesn’t ask her to. 

It doesn’t seem like he has the right. 

Not anymore. He lost that, when he lost JARVIS. 

*


	4. Ache

Tony’s sitting in the dark of JARVIS’s floor again, pressed against a server and the main access console. The console is a purposefully low set screen, so Tony can sit on the floor and hide amongst the winding aisles. Can be surrounded by the hum and the whir and the arc-reactor-blue lights. JARVIS had requested the color, demanded as close a match as possible. 

**‘Sir, no one will ever tell me I have my father’s eyes. I should at least have it known that I have a heart like yours.’**

Now they’re dark, blown out. Snuffed too soon by Ultron, by a damn Hydra algorithm. By too much, too fast, too high. Tony’s reach exceeding his grasp. He’s killed his son in his rush to protect his team.

What team? 

The only one on this floor is Tony and a ghost. 

His other sons are safe in the workshop, his daughter lilts promises in his ear.

His son died for a team that wasn’t his, and all Tony has to show for it is an empty tower.

Tony folds himself against silent servers and cries.

And cries. 


	5. Anomaly

A low, gentle drawl of Brooklyn comes out of the dark. “Christ, Stark. What n’tha Hell are ya’ doin’ to yourself?”

Tony’s spine goes iron, his head snapping up and eyes narrow in the dark. James Barnes shuffles into the pool of light created by the arc reactor, hands low and wide to show he's unarmed. Glaring at the soldier Tony remains crouched, Friday’s voice in his ear dies with a worried little flutter. He can feel her wondering if he’s come to harm her.

Tony will kill him before that happens… May yet still, as he’s on JARVIS’s floor without permission. 

Then again, the fact that he’s in the tower at all is a shock in itself. Adrenaline spikes and prompts movement. 

“The fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Tony snarls, finding his feet and thanking everything under the sun that he’s got his watch on. He wobbles but he’s upright, and the glove is unfolding over his hand, the light illuminating a pocket of space around him. “Here to finish the job?”

“No call for talk like that.” James soothes as he edges further into the light. He’s bearded and haunted and looks like Tony feels. A man without friends, worn down, running out of reasons to keep fighting. “I ain’t after you.” 

“Why not? It’s the perfect gift for Captain America.” Tony snarks. “Iron Man’s head on a plate. Who doesn’t want that?”

“Well me, for one.” Barnes shrugs, hands loose and relaxed at his sides. “You can blast me if you want, I ain’t gonna hurt’cha.” 

His adrenaline is fading, iron dripping from his bones until all he can do is lean back against the server and stare. “No family, no friends… What’s left to hurt?”

“Come on now, Stark.” Barnes murmurs, stepping forward and freezing when Tony reacts like he’s been struck. “Okay, okay… I’m sorry. Tony. Come ‘ere, Tony.”

Tony’s voice is less than whisper when he manages to rasp his reply. “Why?” 

“’cuz this place’s got the feel of a funeral parlor to it.” Barnes murmurs, gentle but blunt. “Let’s go to another floor, any other floor, huh? Little bit a day light, something to drink. You look dehydrated and just plain done in, darlin’.”

“And that’s me in the dark, you sure you ready for a full daylight experience?” Tony mutters, bitter but no longer biting. 

“I’ll take my chances, you’re still plenty distracting, Darlin’. Don’tchu worry none about that.” There’s a faint smile on Barnes’s face as his hand makes contact with Tony’s elbow, cupping it gently and leading him back toward the elevator. “Come on honey, no more o’ this right now.”

“He was my best…” Tony murmurs when they’re standing in the elevator car and rising to, well, Barnes knows where. Tony can’t make himself look at the buttons, just stares at his bare feet where they peek from the hems of his jeans. 

“I’m sorry he’s gone, Tony.” There’s an understanding, a gentle mourning in Barnes’s voice. “I’m real sorry, Doll… But you gotta eat, and you gotta rest… You’re so done in you can’t even cry for him no’ more. That ain’t good for you.”

“He…” Barnes is right. Tony can’t cry anymore, but gods know his body is trying. “He was my best… my son.”

“I know, Darlin’.” There’s a soft step, a shuffle, and then a warm arm is wrapping around Tony’s ribs and pulling him into a muscular chest. “Ssshhh now…Let’s get you somethin’ ta eat, and some water… And if you need it, I’ll hold you while you cry for your boy.”

“Why are you here? Why aren’t you with Steve?”

“Steve ain’t who I need to be with right now…” James shrugs. “Maybe you don’t want me around, but you need someone, Tony… Even if it’s just for a little while. Let it be me, okay? I’ll take care a’ya. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart, Dollface. Now come on, let’s get you settled and then, when you’re ready, you can tell me about your boy.”

“… Yeah… Okay.” 

*


End file.
